Recently, Kingston and I threw a little party for a couple of preschool friends that he's stayed in touch with and seen often this summer.

Everyone needs friends, but before I had a child, and a boy no less, I didn't spend much time thinking about how children actually develop relationships with one another. It's been fascinating, though, to watch Kingston -- and his often rough-and-tumble guy buddies -- create relationships filled with a lot of visible tenderness.

It's been an important reminder to me of how real, sustained connection with others allows us to truly thrive. To kick your feet and swing together toward the sky, laughing and calling out to each another with joy. Or, to hold hands just because you're happy to see each other. Does it get any better than that?

The day of our party, the boys came over with their moms and we quickly got going. I had set up three stations on our dining room table where we could work together. Mamas paired up with their boys to roll out dough that I had made ahead of time. Sure, there was some manhandling involved. Dough was squished with warm hands and much enthusiasm. But, it was all okay.

We filled our rolled-out dough with different types of fruit: blueberries we'd picked together a few days earlier at a farm in Ferndale, pears that one smart mama had preserved with a dash of brandy last summer. Then, we made a couple of galettes with nectarines from Eastern Washington.

Which brings me to the nectarine. Why is it that I've never heard anyone gush about eating the "perfect" nectarine? Usually, that sort of praise is reserved for summer peaches and jewel-toned plums. I mean, listen to Mark Bittman in his book, How to Cook Everything. He writes, "The peach is not only delicious. It can be downright erotic. Nectarines, good as they are, are not in the same league."

Pretty gushy.

But the nectarine! Let's not forget about its virtues. I get woozy from their sweet aroma as they sit nonchalantly on the kitchen counter. The smooth-skinned fruit doesn't have to be peeled like its fuzzier relative. When I eat a juicy nectarine out of hand, I don't wince when I eat the skin, like I do with many types of plums. In my mind, it is equal to any peach.

But back to the dough squishing.

I have to admit that I was very surprised once I pulled our first tray of goodies out of the oven. The "well-handled" dough had become transformed into golden, flakey crust. What a surprise!

To me, this proved a couple of important things. First, that anyone can bake a beautiful free form galette or tart. And second, that if you are going to let anyone, including a bunch of preschoolers make pastries, this is a good dough recipe to use.

Even if you are only four years old, baking and creating together offers a lot of positives that go beyond pleasing the palate and the belly. Our activity that afternoon let both kids and grownups work and learn together in a joyful, fun and tactile way. It also gave us a chance to strengthen connections and deepen friendships.

After everyone ate, helped clean up and then went home, I found another round of dough in the fridge, along with extra nectarines. I rolled out the dough, sliced the fruit and tipped in a bit of Kentucky bourbon. As I put my own grown-up galette into the oven, I felt content. Full of the sweetness of fruit, buttery crust and the tender kindness of friendship.

Nectarine Bourbon GaletteHere's my ode to the nectarine. Since I was going for quickly making a lot of dough for the party, I used my food processor. You can use the food processor method here or also make this by hand. If you want to make a larger quantity of dough to throw your own party, simply multiply the amounts. In my 14-cup food processor, I am able to make up to four times the amount of the dough below.

In a food processor, pulse together flour(s) and salt. Add butter, pulse for no longer than 10 seconds. The mixture will look like coarse cornmeal. Turn processor on then add water in a steady stream. It will become incorporated within 15 to 20 seconds and you'll see the dough come together. Don't process it longer, or your dough may become tough. Remove dough from bowl of processor and onto a lightly floured board or counter top. Form into a flat round, about 1 1/4-inch thick. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator while preparing the filling.

In a large bowl, toss together nectarine slices, bourbon, sugars and salt. Set aside. In a small bowl, mix together ground almonds, flour and sugar. Set aside.

On a work surface lightly dusted with flour, roll out chilled dough. Use light pressure, rolling from the middle toward but not all the way to the edge. Give the dough quarter turns as you go. When the dough is about 10 inches in diameter, dust lightly with flour then flip over. Continue rolling your circle of dough until it is 12 inches in diameter. Fold dough into quarters and transfer to prepared baking sheet. Spoon almond mixture onto the middle and spread into a thin, circular layer. Spread nectarine mixture on top, leaving a 3-inch edge of uncovered dough. Fold edges of dough over the filling, leaving the center part exposed, and forming a more or less circular shape.

Beat together egg white and water. Brush egg wash all over the dough. Sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Place on center rack of preheated oven. After 20 minutes, rotate the galette and bake an additional 25 minutes, or until crust is golden to golden-brown and juices are bubbling.

It can be a rollercoaster ride around here this time of year. In the past week, we've had high winds, mud slide warnings and flood watches, with a rogue spot of sun blotted out by rain via what are known as atmospheric rivers.

And, it's not technically winter yet.

The winters of my childhood were nothing like the ones here in Western Washington. We had sunny and warm Southern California days with clear blue skies and cool nights. We could walk coatless, often even sweaterless, or if we were really daring, in shorts down to the park.

We also had oranges. Piles of them, from the orange groves further inland. I can still see mounds of the thick-skinned navel type gathered on the kitchen table. They were an inextricable part of our Chinese immigrant household. Oranges, always oranges, after dinner.

Our uncles would tote them into our house in large, white cartons that only they could lift. The adults were crazy for them, polishing off case after case. Each time we walked into one of our many aunts or uncles' homes, we'd be greeted with the offer of tea and oranges. As a child, I wondered what magical sway the citrus orbs held over them. To me, the grown ups seemed bewitched.

Each of us kids would try to peel the fruit in one ragged spiral. I, being the youngest, was the most inexperienced, the slowest, the least competititve. With my small fingers, my orange finally clean of pith and peel, I would pry open the ball of segments, the sweet juice running down my forearms.

Even as a tiny child, I was greedy for every last drop of goodness. I wanted to -- and did -- slurp all of the juices off my hands, my arms.

I didn't wonder, until I got older, and found out about things like cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies (which didn't exist in our home) whether there was anything better than a sweet winter orange from San Bernadino.

Honestly, I don't think there is.

A Winter SorbetI was interested in trying out the technique that the River Cafe uses to make their Strawberry Lemon Sorbet. They puree an entire lemon along with the sugar to bypass the usual simple syrup and add a touch of pleasing bitterness. I think it adds some body and textural interest as well. I've used all sugar here, but if you want a smoother result, you can sub out part of the sugar with a non-high fructose corn syrup. You can also remove the orange pulp and zest before freezing by pressing your mixture through a fine-meshed sieve. But, I like the texture!

InstructionsMix the orange and pomegranate juices together in a large, 4-cup measuring cup. In a food processor, blitz together the orange pieces and sugar. If it remains clumpy add a spoonful or two of the juice you've measured out. Add pureed mixture to orange and pomegranate juices. Add lemon juice.

Freeze according to instructions on your ice cream maker. It will be soft, so if you'd like it firmer transfer it to an airtight container and freeze for four hours before serving. This is nice served in small portions after a rich meal.

Variation: To make into a sherbet add one cup of whole milk, half and half, or heavy cream to the fruit and juice mixture and freeze according to your ice cream maker's instructions.

Though some might find this objectionable, I always welcome these cool, damp mornings. It's as if Mother Earth has something to say.

She speaks at low volume, so we tilt our heads and open our ears, listening. We might hear whispers or nothing at all. But it's still important to try and keep our hearts open. On this particular morning, her every breath exudes mist that swirls in barely visible droplets. I only really notice it when I look up at one of the kid's faces.

We've gathered out at an apple orchard just north of Bellingham, about five miles from the Canadian border. It's Kingston's preschool's first field trip of the year and we're here with the children, their families, Ms. Sarah and Ms. Gregory to pick the last of the Jonagolds.

Ms. Sarah explains that with our hands, "we twist, then pull," to remove each apple. Almost as soon she finishes speaking, it seems her wagon is nearly filled to capacity with fruit from her eager helpers.

The fog has an odd effect. The light remains bright yet diffused. Sounds seem muffled or distant yet immediate and close. I'm not sure how the science of this works, but there is something both magical and vaguely unnerving about it. You can't see or hear clearly. You remain slightly disoriented.

This suits me fine, as lately I've been in a reflective mood. Today happens to be Kingston's fourth birthday and I've been thinking a lot about him growing up, about what kind of boy and eventually, young man, I hope for him to be.

It's been on my mind a lot because the past month has been especially challenging. Throughout most of it, I couldn't help but think about a friend of mine who said that when her son was around this age, there were days when she was ready to run away and join the circus.

I get it.

The time between the tail end of three and the start of four has been the toughest. That will! And the force of it! The assertion of independence. The quick change of feelings and volatile behaviors.

At times, walking a tightrope or flying through the air on a trapeze seemed like it had to be easier than this.

And yet, it was all basically normal, what these boys go through trying to make sense of a world where so much is new and beyond their understanding. It's as Ms. Gregory puts it, an awakening.

I have a lot of empathy for boys. When I worked as a child therapist, the "wild," under-fives were the ones I really enjoyed.

I was that little girl who was always expected to sit still and be quiet (basically, to act like I didn't exist) while the adults were speaking. So, as an adult, I came to love the boldness of these boys. Their willingness to just be who they were and act upon every feeling as it occurred -- that felt like freedom to me.

I knew it was so hard on their parents and I felt for them, but I still cherished the spirit and physicality of the boys. I still do. But as a mom in the thick of awesome displays of preschooler power, I've had to pause and remind myself of the specialness of these little guys.

I've had to rememember that in their early years, their right brains - the side focused on spatial concepts - are much more richly developed than the left side. This explains their interest in the way blocks and pieces fit together and why they need to spread out their toys (AKA a big, huge mess!) over a large area. They just need more room to play, to move.

It also means they tend to take longer to develop verbal skills. Girls are way ahead here. There have been times when watching a group of little girls chatting and holding hands would elicit a feeling of envy in me because my child wasn't one of them. A girl.

I know how it sounds, but I would guess that nearly all parents have had some similar feelings during the course of their child-rearing careers. I've had to learn to accept these sorts of passing thoughts in myself.

The main thing I have learned from our three-going-on-four experience though, is just how much our little boys need us. The caring, loving adults who can remain solid with them when they are stomping their feet, hurling hard objects, or shouting angrily at the world.

When I say solid, I mean non-reactive. Ever-patient. Wise enough to know that this moment will blow over and that afterward we'll have a calm chat about it, exploring different ways to handle our feelings next time no matter how overwhelming they are.

For a little guy to know that it is okay to fall apart, to feel sad, confused and yes, fragile, is just about the greatest gift we adults can offer up. If we can also demonstrate that we will still love them, even like them, not in spite of who they are but because of it, that's even better.

It's taken a lot of reflection on my part to understand that I have to be willing to weather the storms with Kingston if I want him to grow into a young man able to cope with what's inside. I want more than anything for him to live authentically, fully in touch with himself. Deeply connected to the people in his life.

Apple BunsThese are simple and comforting, just what is in order during quiet moments of thought and reflection. They are toothsome and not too sweet with apple flavor brought out by the addition of lemon and cinnamon. These are to be enjoyed by all, whether wild boys, well-behaving little girls or bewildered parents. No matter what, a bite of this will set everything to rights again.

InstructionsIn a medium bowl, whisk together the two flours. In a large bowl combine milk and yeast. Set aside for 5-10 minutes, until mixture is foamy. Add egg yolks and vanilla, combining well. Stir in butter, then salt and sugar. Add the flours into the wet mixture and combine until a shaggy dough forms.

Turn dough onto a floured surface. Knead for 5-10 minutes until the dough is no longer shiny. Form into a ball and return to bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, then a kitchen towel. Set aside in a warm spot for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until the dough is twice its original size.

In the meantime, toss apples with cinnamon, sugar and lemon juice. Set aside.

Shape dough into a 15-inch log, then roll into a rectangle 6 inches wide and about 1/4 inch thick. Spread butter over dough. Spoon the apple mixture evenly over the rectangle. Roll lengthwise away from yourself to form a long log. Pinch seams to seal.

Cut log at 1 1/2 inch intervals. Separate pieces and place on a parchment-covered baking sheet. Some apple chunks may fall out. Just press them back in. Cover with plastic wrap then a towel and set aside in a warm place for 1-2 hours, until they are about 1 1/2 times larger.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix together yogurt and maple syrup. Set aside.

Uncover buns and place on middle rack of oven for 35 minutes until golden, or slightly darker if you like. Allow to cool slightly then spoon yogurt mixture over the buns.

If you've been reading along this summer, you already know that one of the things I love doing most in the world is picking berries. For me, it's one of the most dreamy and relaxing things I could ever be doing other than lying in a shady patch on a warm, sunny day relaxing with my eyes closed and perhaps actually dreaming.

When the opportunity came up recently to head to Bow Hill Blueberries for some U-Pick, I got Kingston dressed, stuffed him into the car seat and jumped in after him.

Bow Hill Blueberries is located about thirty miles south of us at the end of a narrow, winding Chuckanut Drive, with its spectacular cliff drop offs and the Pacific Ocean alongside. Here, you land in Bow-Edison and its alluvial plains stretching out toward the ocean. It's one of my favorite spots.

Berry picking, especially at a U-Pick farm is always better when in the company of friends who equally love the activity. On this particular day, we were with Jet, who is a month older than my Kingston, and his mom, Vicky. Armed with our all-day grazing passes (refunded if you pick at least 10 pounds, which we wisely did), we made our way slowly through rows of Rubels toward the smaller heirloom Stanleys with their pure, blueberry flavor.

Kingston and I first met Jet and Vicky in gymnastics class when the boys were about a year old. They seemed to have similar temperaments -- more on the cautious side, two little observers while the rest of the tiny humans in class veered toward wildness, scampering across balance beams and fearlessly practicing forward somersaults down padded pretend hills. Vicky and I always chatted in class and eventually, we began to meet up with each other for outside activities.

It's never been easy for me to make friends. I seem to fall into the category of an introvert who appears to others to be an extrovert. This is sometimes a strange line to walk. It's easy enough to start up a conversation with someone, but to venture further is often daunting, mostly when it's a complete stranger. When it's happening it can feel like my insides are being scrubbed by a very rough scouring pad. It's not at all that I am wary of people. I am fascinated by other humans -- what motivates them, the experiences that shape how they see the world. Hence, my former occupation as a therapist.

I suppose in the end, we are just wired to lean a little this way or that. Or to sit somewhere in the middle.

I think Vicky is a bit like me, except maybe actually more extroverted. And she's always curious. She's the one who will always want to go beyond the small patch of the park or beach that we're sitting on to see what's "over there." We usually end up discovering something.

It's good to have a friend like that. Meanwhile, I'm the one who is always thinking and reflecting and wondering about life and what it all means (I know, boring!) and this is happening in my head while we are just walking along, sitting, or watching the boys flick stones across the water together on a Friday afternoon.

Summer is for spending time outside. Sauntering along trails, watching the blue jays flit around the cottonwoods, and yes, picking berries. Summer is for the days when the sun is high for what seems to be stretches of days, weeks at a time. Summer is for chatting with a friend while baking pie. This pie.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

All dressed up and ready to go...into the oven.

Black-and-Blueberry Spelt Crust PieThis is a beautiful, juicy pie full of purple jewels of fruit. The spelt flour gives it a slightly nutty flavor and makes for a somewhat more sturdy but still flakey crust. I bake crusts made with 100% all-purpose flour at high heat first then turn it down to 350°, but this crust seems to come out better when baked at one temperature as directed below. The process might seem long and the effort level fairly high, but I promise it's really, really worth making and sharing with friends, or anyone else you like -- perhaps even a stranger.

InstructionsFor the crust:Whisk together both flours and salt. Toss butter into the flour mixture, so that all pieces are coated. Putting hands into an offering gesture, place some of the flour and butter into your open-palmed hands. Using your fingers and thumbs, press down on the butter, smearing it into the flour. Allow bits of the mixture to fall back through your fingertips and into the bowl. Repeat until you have worked the butter through most of the flour. You will notice that you can really start smelling the butter, which means that it is warming up and getting worked in.

Drizzle ice water over the flour-butter mixture in a spiral working from the outside in. Toss the mixture with your fingers or a fork. Press together a bit of the dough. If it holds together, it is ready. Press the mixture together into a dough. Turn out onto a work surface, divide in two and pat each portion into a chubby disk. Wrap disks separately in plastic and refrigerate for an hour

When the dough is well chilled, remove one disk from the refrigerator and roll out. The best way to do this is to unwrap the dough, placing it onto a lightly floured work surface. Take your rolling pin and wack it a few times on each side. Roll out from the center, sprinkling with a bit of flour as needed, until the dough is a 12-inch round. Fold into quarters and transfer it to a 9-inch pie pan, easing it in gently. Unfold. Trim overhang to 1 inch. Place in the freezer for 10-15 minutes.

Meanwhile, get the filling ready.

For the filling:Place granulated sugar in a bowl. Add berries, flour, salt, lemon zest, lemon juice and nutmeg. Toss well to combine. Place filling into the prepared bottom crust.

For completing the pie:Roll out the second disk of dough to a 12-inch round. Lay the dough over the filling and trim the overhang to 1 inch. Cut vents into top crust. Press the overhang together and crimp or create decorative edge of your choice. Alternatively, you can make a lattice top as I did by cutting the second rolled-out crust into even strips and laying them on top of the filling in a weave pattern. Then, fold the edge of the bottom crust over the lattice edges to seal. Place pie in freezer for 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 375°. Brush pie with egg wash and sprinkle generously with turbinado or demerara sugar. Bake for about 1 hour 15 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling. If the edges get dark too quickly, cover them with foil. Cool the pie completely before serving. Several hours to overnight is best.

For the past couple of summers, I've gone over to my friend Kari's house to pick yellow plums from her backyard. This tree gives and gives gorgeous, mellow yellow fruit.

Last year, the tree almost went overboard with its generosity. Kari called everyone she knew to come and pick plums. Afterward, there were still more, as in falling-to-the-ground-and-attracting-bees-and-getting-squashed-underfoot-by-the-kidsmore. Desperately, Kari called the gleaners. They came, they picked, they handed her a receipt for the amount of fruit collected: over 500 pounds. From one backyard tree!

We actually went to pick our plums after the gleaners were done and the tree gave us yet another 50 pounds to take home, with more still visibly weighing down its generous branches.

I learned something from bringing home 50 pounds of one type of fruit. It's a bit like winning the lottery, I imagine. After you get home, you have to take a moment to stand back and wonder at what to do with all the wealth that you've suddenly acquired. It almost feels like too much -- although the greedy pig inside you would never admit it.

Mostly, I made jam with the plums. All day jamming sessions that went late into the night for a couple of days in a row. Then I used the jam to make all sorts of things like cakes and cookies. But mostly, I happily spread the sweet-tart stuff onto buttered toast.

The main thing I took away from my plum jam-making is that it is a process. It's hard work, and you get really sweaty from all the boiling and boiling away that is happening. Your arm starts to ache from stirring to prevent scorching and skimming the scum off the top. If making more than one batch, you might also get snapped at here and there by a husband who is providing childcare to a toddler and wondering when you will actually be finished with your seemingly never-ending project.

It's not glamorous work at all, though you'd never know it from the final product, which sits innocently -- and at times, glamorously -- gleaming in small glass jars on your pantry shelf, like a girl who knows she is beautiful but who doesn't want you to think she realizes it.

Despite the involved process, the maker of things in me just loves putting up jam.

But a bit more about what I've learned. Jam must be made in modest quantities. With plums, especially, it seems the smallest batch that you can make without feeling let down by the fact that you only have six puny jars at the end of it, is best.

Plums, especially the yellow ones from Kari's tree, are full of water. They have to be macerated first in sugar, softening their skins and leaving you with fruit basking in layers of golden syrup. Then, they have to be cooked down longer than other less moisture-laden fruit.

They mustn't, however, be overcooked, which is more likely to happen if you make a larger batch of jam. If the fruit is cooked too long, it loses the beguiling, fragrant quality that makes it so attractive in the first place, leaving only tartness and a one-dimensionality behind.

This year, I only took home 18 pounds of plums from Kari's tree (even as she attempted to hand me more). I made it all into jam.

When you live in a place that rains nine months out of the year, a fragrant plum jam is most welcome on the darkest of winter's days. It is the best reminder of sweeter, warmer times when it was possible to spend a sunny afternoon with friends, reaching up into a giving tree to pluck its ripe, bloom-covered fruit.

Yellow Plum Jam with VanillaThis is a jam for anyone who loves tart flavors. The addition of vanilla gives the jam additional complexity and a lovely fragrance. We make a lot of vanilla ice cream during the summer months and always have spent vanilla beans sitting in a jar of sugar. That's what I used here. You can also probably use some vanilla extract added at the end, but that might not give as nice a flavor as the spent vanilla pod would.

You'll also notice that this recipe does not contain any liquid or powdered pectin. I prefer not to use it, as I feel it gives the jam a murky taste. I generally prefer the clean, bright flavor of fruit with a softer set to a firmer-set jam with cloudier flavor.

Day 1In a large non-reactive bowl, layer the 2 pounds, 3 ounces of fruit with 1 1/4 pounds of sugar and 1 ounce of lemon juice. It is important to make sure each of piece of fruit is covered with the sugar and lemon juice. In another separate non-reactive bowl, combine the 2 pounds, 5 ounces of plums in the same manner with the remaining 3/4 pound of sugar and 1 ounce of lemon juice. For each container, press down a piece of plastic wrap against the fruit to prevent browning. Cover both bowls tightly and allow to macerate in the refrigerator for 24 hours. If you find that you can't get to it by then and need a little bit more time, that is fine as well.

Day 2Place a saucer with a few metal teaspoons on it in the freezer. You will use this to test your jam later for doneness.

Remove plums from the refrigerator. Scrape the 2 pounds, 3 ounces of macerated plums into a large, non-reactive dutch-oven or other similar type of wide cooking vessel with high sides. Place over medium-high heat, stirring often until they soften, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and coarsely mash (I used a potato masher, but you can also use a food mill), breaking up larger chunks.

Add the uncooked, macerated plums. Taste the mixture. Very gradually add lemon juice as needed. Taste as you go. The flavor of the lemon juice should be present but not overpowering. The ideal is to be able to just detect the tartness of the lemon.

Bring the jam mixture to a boil over high heat, stirring frequently with a large, heatproof spatula. Boil, stirring frequently until the jam thickens, 30 to 45 minutes. As the jam cooks, use a large stainless steel spoon to skim off foam from the surface. Discard. Scrape the bottom of the pan often. Very importantly, decrease the heat gradually as more and more moisture cooks out of the jam. Stir the jam slowly and steadily the last 10 minutes of cooking to prevent scorching.

When the jam is thickened, test it for doneness. Remove a spoon from the freezer and scoop a half-spoonful of jam with it then put it back in the freezer for 3 minutes. Remove and feel the underside of the spoon. It should be neither warm nor cold. If still warm, put it back in the freezer for another moment. When ready, hold the spoon vertically to see how quickly the jam runs. It is done when it is thick and gloppy. If it runs off the spoon, cook your jam for another five minutes, stirring, then test again.

Turn off the heat and don't stir the jam. If any foam remains, skim it off the surface. Add the vanilla pod by pressing it slightly down into the jam. Allow the jam to sit for 10 minutes, then pour the jam into prepared, sterilized containers (here's a nice how to), leaving behind the vanilla pod.

Process the jars in boiling water for 10 minutes. Remove from water bath and place on a rack, with jars at least an inch apart. Allow to cool overnight without disturbing. This jam will last for one year.

It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you. People’s failings, even major ones such as when they make you wear short trousers to school, fall into insignificance as your teeth break through the rough, toasted crust and sink into the doughy cushion of white bread underneath. Once the warm, salty butter has hit your tongue, you are smitten. Putty in their hands.